


Barn Raising

by Menolly



Category: House M.D.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menolly/pseuds/Menolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House finds out why Wilson has been reading Barn Restoration magazines during their estrangement. An AU ending to 5.05 Lucky Thirteen.</p><p>Inspired by a fic by Sassyjumper - <a href="http://sassyjumper.livejournal.com/7995.html">Overheard</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Barn Raising

_Be outside my apartment at 8:00 tonight._

He's not sure when Wilson started giving the orders around here. He thinks about drawing a line in the sand and being a fashionable hour or two late but well, Wilson's only just come back; and the booby trapped chair was pushing it. Their friendship still seems shaky, fragile, despite Wilson's assurances that nothing has changed. 

If he's not at Wilson's by eight Wilson might go without him, and House isn't taking any chances.

Wilson comes outside and joins him in the car at eight o'clock on the dot. He doesn't say anything much, just motions for House to shove over into the passenger side and then drives off.

They drive for a while, making their way through the tangled mess of the evening traffic and out into the countryside. House tries to make some conversation but Wilson is intent on where he's going. He's got that peculiar scrunched up look he gets when he's doing things against his better judgement, wherever they're going Wilson's not sure if he should be taking House there. Interesting, a Wilson puzzle - House has missed those, nothing's been the same since he woke up from his coma to find Wilson gone. 

At least this time nobody has drugged him to get him in the car, and there won't be a funeral at the end of it. House hopes. For one moment he thinks maybe Wilson is taking him to Amber's grave and he looks around for a way to get out of the car. 

Wilson glances at him, frowning, and House settles back into his seat. If they end up at a graveyard House will make a bolt for it, there's no point trying to jump out of a moving car.

When Wilson begins driving through farmland House starts thinking about bodies being buried in the middle of the night and he peers suspiciously at Wilson when they pull up outside of a ramshackle building. He's seen this, in countless movies, it never ends well.

"We're here," Wilson says, getting out of the car and gesturing for House to follow. 

House looks around to see if he missed any strip club signs, maybe this is some private place that only Wilson knows about. It doesn't look promising but Wilson is disappearing rapidly across the field so House levers himself out the seat and follows, his cane sinking unhelpfully into the soft ground. This had better be good.

Wilson creaks open the door to the wreck and waves House in, still with that anxious look on his face.

It's a barn. A derelict barn. The last cow this place saw was many years ago. Wilson has one of those flashlights he likes to keep in the trunk of his car for emergencies and as he shines it around House catches glimpses of decaying rafters, old straw and multitudes of cobwebs. He swears he can hear rats scurrying around in the dark. Maybe Wilson thought he'd like to pick up another rat as a pet - but there was no need to come out here to the boondocks, there are plenty of rats hanging around Princeton.

"It's a barn," he says; his banter skills must have atrophied in all those Wilson-less months.

"Yes," Wilson shifts his feet and then folds his arms across his chest in a classic Wilson defensive move. "I'm restoring it."

"You own this place?" 

"Yes. I bought it." Well it wasn't like House had thought that Amber left Wilson a run-down barn in her will. She might have left him her Weapons of Mass Destruction collection, but not a rat infested, derelict, barn. "That's where I was the other morning, signing the papers." 

"You bought this barn to restore it?"

"Yes. Why else did you think I was reading Barn Restoration for Beginners?"

"I thought it was a euphemism for gay porn."

"No, that's House and Garden."

God, he's missed Wilson. 

He turns around in a circle, taking in the less than luxurious surrounds. He can see Wilson here, hammering away, sawing, cleaning, doing whatever it takes to restore this dump to being, well, a better looking barn. At least until Wilson's patients and Wilson's responsibilities close in on him - House gives it three months before the project becomes just another thing that Wilson Wished He Could Have Done.

"I thought... I thought maybe you'd like to help." Wilson says, and there it is. That's what Wilson has been anxious about.

 _Do you know me?_ The words are on the tip of his tongue but he somehow, heroically, stops them coming out. Wilson is looking at him like he thinks House is going to mock him for this - whatever _this_ is. Of course, House _is_ , but not tonight. Plenty of time for that when he's here and Wilson's working away while House supervises, because if Wilson thinks he's going to drag his crippled ass around a barn with a tool-belt tied around his waist he's got another think coming. He might bring some beer. Then again he might tell Wilson to bring the beer - it's his barn after all. 

"You can bring the beer," House says, establishing the ground rules early on.

Wilson does his little sigh thing. "Of course, what else?"

"I don't climb ladders. And I don't wear flannel."

"Damn, there goes my fiendish plan to have you limp up a ladder in a flannel shirt and fix the roof. Anything else?"

"Fixing up a barn won't bring her back." He wonders if he's gone too far when Wilson freezes in place. There's a moment of awkward silence and then Wilson sighs again.

"I... I know. I just want to build something, okay?" There's a catch in his voice that tells House he's a long way from being over Amber. Wilson couldn't save her life so he's going to raise a barn. And he wants House to help. 

House nods. "Okay."

"You'll help?"

"I'll be here," and he will, because this is where Wilson will be. 

There's a moment of silence and then there's that scuttling sound again, and House swears he can hear something howling into the wind outside. 

"We don't have to start this tonight do we?" House asks, edging towards the door. "Barns aren't built in a day." 

Wilson joins him at the door. "No, they're not."

Back in the car House settles back while Wilson drives. The atmosphere is easier now, more relaxed. The barn may, or may not; ever end up being restored but it doesn't matter. 

Wilson's back.


End file.
